Hindsight
by alexanderavery998
Summary: Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller go out for drinks, and inevitably, their conversation turns to the FBI's Most Wanted Murder Husbands. Preller, post-fall, one-shot.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _I cross-post my works here (FFN), AO3, and Wattpad under the same username (alexanderavery998). If you find my works somewhere other than these 3 websites, please let me know, because that means they have been stolen and reposted without my permission._

As seems to be the case for most of my ideas for this fandom, this fic popped into my head at 2 in the morning when I was trying to sleep. Price and Zeller gave me a hard time, since they didn't want to stay on topic and wouldn't stop bickering, but I think I'm happy with the end result. Inspired by _Middle Earth_ by Eggplantssandpeachess on AO3; after reading it, I really wanted to see Price and Zeller discuss our lovely Murder Husbands. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**~ HINDSIGHT ~**

Jimmy Price paused at the doorway as he put on his coat. "Going my way?"

Brian Zeller snorted. "You say that as if we don't leave at the same time every day." He took one last glance around the room before approaching Jimmy and turning the light off behind them.

If Jimmy could smile and pout at the same time, that would sum up his current facial expression. He shrugged goodnaturedly. "I thought it was funny."

"Yeah, well, don't quit your day job."

The men continued to bicker as they navigated the winding, empty hallways to the employee parking lot. Outside, the cold air nipped and bit at every inch of exposed skin. It was a relief to get into Jimmy's old beat-up car and turn the heat on. No words needed to be spoken as to where they were going; Jimmy drove to their favorite bar, and they found their usual seats. The bartender greeted them by name and knew their (albeit simple) orders by heart.

After the normal chitchat about their job — the most recent crime scene was the fourth in a string of related murders across the east coast — Brian set down his beer and angled himself towards Jimmy.

"So, I have to ask: have you heard anything about Will or Dr. Lecter?"

"'Or'?" Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him. "You and I both know that if there's news about the one, there'll be news about the other."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Alright, smartass, have you heard anything about Will _and_ Dr. Lecter?"

"About as much news as deserts have rain during a dry spell."

Brian sighed, staring into his glass as he spun its frothy contents around. "Too bad." His shoulders tensed, and both men knew what was coming next as he pushed forward. "Everyone was always going on and on about how _smart_ and _talented_ Will Graham was, with his _special_ way of thinking, as if he could deduce all the answers from merely fucking around in the crime scene and then taking wild stabs in the dark without any forensic evidence." His fingers were white where he gripped his glass. "Makes me sick."

"He _was_ almost always right," said Jimmy, in a poorly-timed attempt at being objective.

Brian growled and bared his teeth. "That's not the point."

"Then what is your point? Because whatever else we think — and trust me, I'm not any more fond of him than you are — there's a reason why everyon–"

Brian slammed his beer down so hard that it sloshed over the lip of his glass. "Oh, not you, too!"

"Z, you know I don't like him–"

"So why the fuck are you defending him?"

It was Jimmy's turn to put his glass down harder than intended. "Are you seriously _jealous_ of Will Graham? _Still?_"

"I'm not jealous of Will Graham!"

"Oh, horseshit!" said Jimmy so passionately that Brian startled and closed his mouth. "You're jealous of Will fucking Graham! Jealous of a mentally unstable recluse who murdered his way through the FBI and then jumped off a cliff with the Chesapeake Ripper, who also happened to be his therapist! Honestly, Z, grow up!"

Silence fell like an anvil over the two men. Around them, the bar continued to buzz as more and more people entered, but they weren't aware of anyone but each other. Brian's jaw worked, while Jimmy pursed his lips and wiped some condensation off his glass. Neither of them could look the other in the eye.

"Look, man, I'm sorry–" Brian began after a moment, but Jimmy waved it away hastily and said, "No, no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–"

"It's okay," Brian interrupted. "You're right, I was being ridiculous."

They were quiet for a few more seconds before Jimmy took a gulp of his beer and set it down on the bar, turning to Brian. "This might not be great timing, but since we're on the topic...how many people do you think Will Graham killed?"

"Directly or indirectly?" Brian said dryly, still looking a bit sulky.

"Pick your poison."

"Well, we know Will and Dr. Lecter killed Dolarhyde together. So there's one."

"Then there was the crime scene of their escape..." Jimmy didn't have to mention that the six dead bodies were FBI agents; they both knew too well that they were. They had overseen their autopsies less than two months ago, when their throats were still clogged with fresh grief and shock.

"Dr. Lecter was restrained at that point, so those must've been Will's victims. Christ." Brian leaned his elbows against the bar and put his head in his hands. "We had a fucking psychopath working for the FBI, and nobody fucking noticed."

"Actually, _two_ fucking psychopaths, and they were probably fucking each other," Jimmy said, cracking a grin as he tried to lighten the mood.

"Price! I don't need that mental image in my head. I thought all that 'Murder Husbands' shit was made up by Freddie Lounds to sell a story."

Jimmy began to laugh, and Brian looked indignant.

"You're shitting me, right?" said Jimmy. All the tension from their previous spat had dissipated, replaced by amusement on his part and horror on his friend and colleague's. "There's no way you missed the tension between the two of them. It was _insane._ You remember how they flirted over that body attached to an animal skeleton?"

"Randell Tier?" Brian sat back on his stool, contemplating. "Fuck, Will killed him, too. Jack said it was to hook Dr. Lecter, but...do you think that was real?"

Jimmy shrugged and cracked another grin. "Don't know about the murder, but the sexual tension was _un_real."

"Price!"

"Hey, I'm just pointing out the obvious," Jimmy said, downing the rest of his glass and waving for another. It was obvious he was enjoying himself. "You know that fake body we pretended was Freddie Lounds? They used it like a fucking courtship, trying to one-up each other with their displays. Dr. Lecter carved up a man in Italy and turned him into a heart for Will to find. A heart! If that's straight, then I'm the next monarch of England." Brian snorted, his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh. Jimmy noticed and pressed on, grinning. "Z, they talked about being Abigail Hobbs's fathers, and they planned on running away from the FBI together. Jack even said they talked in long, drawn-out metaphors and eyefucked over the dinner table."

Brian burst out laughing. "_Jack_ said that?"

"Well, he didn't use the term 'eyefuck,' but that's what he meant." Brian chuckled as Jimmy continued, waving his hands in the air. "But really, they were always dancing around each other. It just became more obvious once they, you know, _consummated_ it."

Brian's eyes widened. "You mean they..."

"Well, I mean, yes, probably, but I meant the trying to kill each other, chasing each other across the ocean, and then killing a man together."

"Ah." Brian furrowed his brow and set down his drink. "Okay, but you don't really think they were really..." He waved his hand in the air vaguely.

"Fucking," Jimmy supplied helpfully, and Brian groaned. "Maybe," Jimmy added, looking contemplative. "There was _something_ non-platonic going on there, that's for damn sure. Nobody looks at their purely platonic bros like that."

The two men sat in silence, suddenly uncomfortably aware that Jimmy's comments could apply to them, too. The status of their relationship was something they had strategically avoided discussing, even as they went from being colleagues to friends to roommates to something more. But both were too afraid of rejection to point out the elephant in the room — even when that elephant involved occasionally waking up in bed next to each other after a night out.

"So, back to Will Graham's headcount," Brian said, steering the conversation closer to where it had started. He ticked the people off on his fingers. "We've got Dolarhyde, Tier, and six FBI agents."

"Then there was the Hobbs guy," said Jimmy, taking a swig of his beer. "You remember he put ten bullets in the guy's chest?"

"Oh, yeah." Brian grimaced. "That was way overboard. Will's also the reason why Dr. Chilton got burnt alive. Then his wife and child were almost murdered by Dolarhyde. And...he's..." He trailed off, choking on his words, and then pushed through, voice sharp as flint. "And it's his fault Beverly died. His and Dr. Lecter's. Fuck them both."

Jimmy downed the rest of his beer and slammed the glass down onto the bar, suddenly looking every one of his fifty-some-odd years. "Yeah, on second thought, screw this. I'm far too sober for this conversation, but if I'm gonna drive us home, that should be my last drink."

Brian tried to chuckle, but it died in his throat. "Far be it from me to encourage your alcohol problem, buddy, but this can be my last and only drink if you want another."

He didn't need to tell Jimmy twice; the older man was already waving down the bartender for something much stronger than a few beers. Even after all the time that had passed, the death of their best friend and colleague Beverly Katz stung deeper than anything else Will Graham or Hannibal Lecter had ever done to them. On several occasions — some while drunk, some when perfectly sober — they had indulged themselves in discussing exactly what they would do to Will and Dr. Lecter if they ever caught them and could inact their revenge. It was Brian's idea to slice up Dr. Lecter the same way he'd sliced Beverly, except while he was still alive, and make Will watch. Jimmy favored cutting the men up into pieces and feeding them one by one to sharks. Either way, the end result was the same.

"How the fuck did we miss the signs?" Jimmy said, after his second shot. "It was all right there. Will was unstable, Jack pushed him too far, and Dr. Lecter was always conveniently in the right place at the right time... How could we have not seen it?"

Brian grimaced. "Hindsight's twenty-twenty," he said reluctantly. "Although for the record, I never liked or trusted Will Graham for a second. Twitchy little bastard."

Jimmy pursed his lips. "You know, Z, for once, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you were right. To catching the twitchy sonovabitch, eh?"

The men clinked Jimmy's fresh shot and Brian's old beer together.

Brian kept his word and nursed the dregs of his beer, now lukewarm, as Jimmy threw back more shots. As soon as he sensed that his partner had moved past "pleasantly buzzed" into "drunk but not yet shit-faced," he gently stopped him and led him away from the bar, out of the building, and towards his car.

"Hey, Z?" Jimmy said, slurring and stumbling slightly.

Brian steadied Jimmy with a firm arm around his waist. The cold night air felt even colder after the stifling heat of the bar, and he found himself relishing in the body heat coming off his friend. "Hmm?"

"Do you think they're still alive? Do you think we'll catch 'em?"

Brian contemplated this as he took the keys out of Jimmy's winter coat and helped him into the passenger seat of the car.

"I don't know," he said truthfully. "If they're not dead, I hope we catch them soon. For Bev's sake."

The ride home was quiet. Jimmy slipped in and out of consciousness, while Brian focused on the road, trying not to think too much about the possibility that Dr. Lecter and Will Graham were still out there, murdering and cannibalizing people. It reminded him of the postcard that had arrived on their doorstep a few days before from Alana and Margot, with no return address and the most generic of ink and paper.

_Jimmy, we're doing well_, it read. _Can't disclose our location, but we'll keep you and Jack updated. Tell Brian we say hi. Morgan misses you and keeps asking for Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Bry-Bry. Hope all is well. A & M_

They kept it on the kitchen table, a daily reminder that they, too, needed to be wary for the day when Will and Dr. Lecter resurfaced.

Thankfully, thoughts of the FBI's two most wanted criminals had mostly retreated from the men's minds by the time Brian pulled into the drive and gently shook Jimmy awake. They were both too tired to give them anymore thought. Jimmy leaned into Brian as they walked up the path to the front door. Inside, it was dark but homey; what was once Jimmy's empty, lonely house was now shared by the two of them. Brian made a mental note to tidy up the place when they nearly tripped and broke their necks on something in the narrow hallway.

In Jimmy's room, Brian gently laid Jimmy down on his bed. But as he went to move away, Jimmy grasped his arm with a surprising amount of strength. "No, stay," he mumbled.

Brian swallowed. "Are you sure? You're pretty drunk, Price."

"'M sure."

Brian hesitated, but then he kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed. Jimmy immediately turned into him, nuzzled his head against his chest, and wrapped an arm across him. It sent Brian's pulse through the roof, but if Jimmy was awake enough to notice, he mercifully said nothing. Brian moved so that his arm wrapped around Jimmy's shoulders. He wondered briefly if they'd talk about this in the morning, or let it pass like every other time so far, but neither prospect bothered him too terribly much. As long as he had Jimmy by his side, he would be happy.

They lay there, warm, content, and beginning to fall asleep, when Jimmy mumbled sleepily into Brian's chest, "Z?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Brian froze, heart racing like a jackrabbit in his chest, but Jimmy was already snoring. He placed a tentative kiss on the top of the older man's head and whispered, "I love you, too, man. I love you, too."

In his sleep, Jimmy smiled.


End file.
